


How Are You This Evening, Little Lark?

by K5C8



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geraskier, Geraskier Fluff, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Kaer Morhen, M/M, Winter At Kaer Morhen, no beta we die like calanthe, so sweet it will give you cavities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:27:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26172700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K5C8/pseuds/K5C8
Summary: I had this idea of making a short and fluffy Geraskier fic around the ending scene of the 2005 film adaptation of Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice, and here it is!Geralts is definitely more forthcoming with his emotions in this fic than he is in the show and video games, and that’s how I like him! I tend to write Geralt closer to his book character (more talkative, sensitive, expressiveC etc.)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 18
Kudos: 128





	How Are You This Evening, Little Lark?

It was late evening at Kaer Morhen and they were beginning to settle down after a long day. Geralt’s body was exhausted from training, and Jaskier’s mind was tired from a full day of instructing Ciri in the library.

Jaskier had made it to their bedroom first and had the fire readily burning for Geralt, knowing the Witcher would wear the cold winter air on his skin for at least an hour after coming in from training. The winters at Kaer Morhen were always harsh to say the least, but the sizable fireplaces and thick bed furs more than made up for it in the evenings.

Geralt shrugged off his swords and walked over to Jaskier, who was bent over the desk and fully concentrated on whatever song he was finishing up. Geralt gave him a soft kiss on his temple while resting a hand on his shoulder. “Almost finished?” he asked.

Jaskier took Geralt’s hand and gave his knuckles a quick kiss. “Almost, my love,” Jaskier replied with hushed enthusiasm. “I think this is going to be my best one yet.”

Geralt let out a small hum before responding “You say that every time you write a new song, Jask.”

“Yes, my wolf, but this time I really do mean it.”

“Hmm, you've said that too.” Geralt retorted before planting another kiss on the top of Jaskier’s head. He walked away and began his nightly routine of caring for his weapons and stripping out of his armor before bed.

While Jaskier was finishing up his latest ballad, he couldn't help but watch with fondness as Geralt went through his routine. He still had to pinch himself and make sure it wasn't a dream. Sure he's travelled with the witcher going on thirty years now, but the romantic aspect of their relationship was still just days old. The journey to Kaer Morhen was too harsh for the gentle moments needed to establish comfortability in a new romantic relationship. The nights spent wrapped in each other were of the usual cuddle-so-we-don’t-freeze-to-death type, which they had started doing five years into their companionship. The winter winds whistling too loud for soft murmurs of affection to be shared.

After Jaskier had finally had enough of dancing around their clearly mutual attraction and affections, he cornered Geralt into admitting that their relationship had naturally turned into something more. What with them being on the road to Kaer Morhen, they had a sort of unspoken agreement that they would figure out the rest later. Well, it was _later_ , but they needed a few days to settle in and catch up with Ciri and the other witchers. That didn't stop them from sharing a room these past few days, though,—they always shared a room on the Path anyways—as well as exchanging a kiss or embrace here and there.

They had had _the talk_ earlier that day over lunch and established that they were in fact romantically tethered. They had also set some ground rules such as whether or not they were going to see other people (they weren’t) and if they were going to let Ciri and the others know (they’d let them all find out for themselves over the course of the winter). Jaskier shook his rambling thoughts off and went back to composing.

After Geralt tended to his swords and Jaskier finished writing, they settled into the bed in a somewhat awkward embrace, still in the throes of the very new physical side of their relationship. Between the warmth of the fire and the bed furs, a sleeping arrangement such as this was purely self indulgent and they knew it. Jaskier still can't believe the witcher— _his witcher—_ is truly his. Meanwhile Geralt is trying so desperately to figure out how to properly communicate his emotions to the bard so he won't think him apathetic, despite the talk they had earlier that day.

After a few moments of shuffling around, they found an embrace comfortable enough for sleep, legs tangled and Jaskier’s head on Geralt’s chest. Jaskier moved one arm around Geralt’s neck, splayed out the other across his chest, sighed, and melted into Geralt.

Geralt wrapped his arms around his lover and squeezed lightly. “How are you today… my dear?” he asked, trying out a new term of endearment for his bard, glad he couldn't see the embarrassment on his face.

“Very well,” Jaskier replied in an contented voice. “Only I wish you wouldn't call me ‘my dear’.”

Geralt’s brows furrowed and a small frown appeared on his features. “Mmm, why not?”

“Because it’s what my father would always call my mother when he was cross about something,” Jaskier said, and Great could practically hear the frown on his face.

Geralt’s features softened as he looked down at his bard. “And what endearments am I allowed, then?” he asked.

Jaskier lifted his chin so that it was resting on Geralt’s chest as he looked up into honey-golden eyes, face serious and thinking. “Hmm, let me think,” he began. “‘Jask’ and ‘Buttercup’ for every day. ‘My Heart’ for Sundays. And ‘My One and Only’ for special occasions, such as when my ballads make you go weak at the knees.” he finished with a light chuckle. ****

“And what should I call you when I’m frustrated? Little Lark?” Geralt asked, remembering the moments he had used the nickname with quick wit or in a teasing manner.

“Oh, no,” Jaskier began, cornflower blue eyes going wide. “That one’s my favorite!” Geralt snorted as Jaskier continued on. “You may only call me that when you are entirely and perfectly and incandescently happy,” he finished with a playful huff.

Geralt looked to Jaskier with the softest expression he could manage while pulling them both up into a sitting position. “And how are you this evening, Little Lark?” He asked before placing a chaste kiss to Jaskier’s temple. Jaskier let out a pleased giggle. “Little Lark,” Geralt said again as he kissed his cheek. “Little Lark,” his forehead next. “Little Lark,” the tip of his nose. “Little Lark,” he whispered once more before placing an affectionate kiss to Jaskier’s lips.

“Entirely and perfectly and incandescently happy, my love,” Jaskier let out in a whisper after the last kiss.

Geralt replied with a low hum and they settled into one another once more, drifting off to sleep with the promise of a winter full of soft moments such as this.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!! 
> 
> Feel free to leave comments and kudos if you enjoyed! I love interacting with readers :D


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